Page:The Poetical Works of Thomas Parnell (1833).djvu/38

xx Wandering I see at twilight's gentlest hour The lights that linger on the village tower, Watch the soft clouds their faery lustre leave, Like isles, that gem the emerald sky of eve, Catch every changing hue, the amber fold, Bright ruby gleams, and lakes of floating gold; Refulgent tints, that mimic art defy, And spread a nobler purple down the sky. Now o'er the vale descends a darker hue, (The distant mill-sail lessening to the view) And where the grange its garners broad extends, Forest and field a lengthening shadow blends. I pass the woodman on his homeward way, The lowing kine, the sports that close the day, When all the budding groves are green in May; Catch from the distant fold the tinkling bell, In the still evening heard—that seems to tell, 'Ye vales and uplands grey a long and last farewell!'

Studious of song! 'tis thine with ease to blend Learning with mirth, the instructor and the friend. Tis thine to point the page where taste presides, Where wit enlivens, and where genius guides; To show the knowledge deep, the judgment clear, The varying fancy sportive or severe. With curious toil (nor mean the praise) to trace Each finer harmony, each latent grace, Recall the wanderings of a thoughtless age